


Scale

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin doesn’t always measure up to expectations, though he gets lucky in Bilbo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scale

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “Dwalin is a big dwarf so everyone expects him to have a large cock but he's embarrassed to admit that, if anything, it's on the small side. Until Bilbo, that is.” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=22988756#t22988756).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

“Dwalin?”

Dwalin grunts and squints through the dark, half asleep and chasing his dream. He can just barely make out Bilbo’s too-cute smile, and then the edge of his sleeping bag’s lifted up and Bilbo’s squirming in.

This wakes Dwalin up, of course, especially when Bilbo settles in right up against him, wriggling to get comfortable in the tight confines. Dwalin’s particularly large for a dwarf, and Bilbo has some girth around the middle, so it’s something of a squeeze, and it doesn’t take long for Dwalin to groggily realize: “...Are you not wearing trousers?”

Turning to face Dwalin, both of them on their sides, Bilbo blushes. His smooth skin stains pink so easily, and he looks particularly lovely washed in the pale glow of the stars through the treetops. Bilbo mumbles sheepishly, “No. I thought... well, we’ve been together for a while now, and I managed to borrow some oils from Rivendell, so I was able to, um... _prepare_ myself.”

Dwalin, who’s been proper in the particulars of courting despite his gruffness elsewhere, is struck momentarily speechless. 

Bilbo continues whispering, “I mean, we’re fairly spread out, so as long as we’re quiet... I was hoping... we could maybe go all the way?” And he rolls his hips against Dwalin’s as if to emphasize, his bare thighs squishing against the hard wool of Dwalin’s trousers. Bilbo’s always been _soft_ , gentle and pretty, if a bit fussy, but now Dwalin can _feel_ it through his too many clothes. Bilbo’s much smaller than him, and even those big feet can’t make it all the way down to his boots, and Dwalin finds something ridiculously sexy about the way Bilbo parts his thighs around one of Dwalin’s legs and rolls against it. It makes Dwalin’s breath hitch, his pulse quicken. The first time he kissed Bilbo, he wanted to push the poor hobbit down and ravage him right against the ground, but Dwalin’s old enough to control his impulses. He resists the urge to roll on top of Bilbo and hump him hard, especially because Bilbo’s made it very clear that he finally wants to go beyond humping, and that’s something Dwalin’s always been hesitant about. 

He swallows, tries to talk and only ends up shuddering. Bilbo mewls, “I’m ready, Dwalin.” There’s a hint of nervousness in his voice, a slight tremor, but he must want it if he’s here. Dwalin grits his teeth together and nearly growls—he wants Bilbo desperately. 

But he only licks his lips and mutters, “If... if you’re sure. But don’t slip in here with high expectations.”

Bilbo stops his wanton writhing instantly, and looks curiously at Dwalin’s face to ask, “Why?”

Dwalin knew this was coming, of course. Silly though it might be, it’s always at the forefront of his mind whenever he gets someone new. One or two _horrible_ memories come to mind, but Dwalin shoves those away—Bilbo isn’t like that. He might be disappointed, yes, but he wouldn’t _laugh_ or _mock_ , Dwalin’s sure: it’s just his own insecurities. Bilbo’s probably conjured his own image of what dwarves are like in the sack, and Dwalin pauses, thinking of the best way to shatter that. 

He phrases delicately, “I’m not exactly like other dwarves.”

“Do you have different genitals than a penis?” Bilbo asks, completely casually. “Some hobbit men are like that too; it’s alright.”

“No,” Dwalin replies, thrown for a loop on that one. It makes his own truth feel vaguely anticlimactic, and he shifts awkwardly as he explains, “I’m not, er... I’m not particularly... well-endowed.”

Bilbo blinks and says nothing else, his mouth in a perfect little ‘o.’

For a few seconds, they’re frozen like that, and neither of them seem to know what to say. Dwalin gets the distinct impression that Bilbo doesn’t quite _understand,_ and of course, he wouldn’t—he’s said before that he’s never been with another dwarf. He might not know the average scale, but Dwalin knows well enough that his thick, muscled stature usually leads others to think he’s going to have a cock as big as his arm. 

When he looks down between them, rustling through the fabric and glad he already took off his belt to sleep, the cock he pulls out of his trousers isn’t much longer than his index finger. 

Bilbo, bolder than usual, sticks his hand down, his smaller fingers slipping softly around the shaft. Dwalin grunts instantly and holds himself back from bucking into Bilbo’s hand. It’s embarrassing, but he forces himself to look at Bilbo’s face, still frozen in shock. 

Then Bilbo breaks into a quiet giggle, which makes Dwalin go utterly rigid in horror, his stomach dropping to his toes. He’s too horrified to move, but as soon as he recovers, he fully intends to throw his adorable hobbit—who’s clearly going to leave him so won’t be ‘his’ any longer—out of his sleeping bag, before promptly rolling over and digging a shameful hole into the earth to die in. 

But Bilbo sees Dwalin’s fallen expression and hurriedly corrects, “No, no! Oh, I’m sorry, Dwalin, I didn’t mean it like that.” He presses a quick kiss to Dwalin’s nose and goes on in their intimate whisper, “I’m just so very relieved! I was absolutely terrified that you would split me in two if we ever progressed to it. When I got the oil in Rivendell, I wanted to come to you right away, but it took the whole visit and then some to work up the courage. I was so sure it would be too uncomfortable, and I’d never be able to enjoy having you inside me! But this...” he looks down, squeezing Dwalin’s cock once, and over Dwalin’s pleasured grunt, Bilbo delightedly squeals, “This is _perfect_!” 

To make matters even worse, he reaches behind himself, fidgeting for a moment, and when his hand returns to the front, Dwalin knows exactly what he’s done: gathered oil from his opened hole to smear along Dwalin’s dick. The stout member twitches in Bilbo’s hand, and Bilbo pumps it happily, slicked with what smells like lavender lubrication. Then Bilbo’s hand shifts aside, and something smooth and spongy slides alongside his—Dwalin groans and bucks instantly into it: Bilbo’s hard cock. Bilbo wraps his fingers around both of them, just barely able to make it with his tiny hand, and he holds them together. While Dwalin fights the urge to roar loud enough to wake the whole camp, Bilbo moans, “Ooh, they’re practically the same size... Dwalin, this is _wonderful_! Why didn’t you tell me before? I would’ve taken this in a heartbeat...”

Dwalin can’t take it anymore. While Bilbo pumps their cocks together, he shifts his hands to grab either side of Bilbo’s head, thumbs brushing over Bilbo’s cheeks, and he pulls Bilbo in for a fierce, hot kiss. Their tongues dance in the middle, Bilbo making cute cooing noises and rolling his hips into Dwalin’s crotch, and Dwalin trembling with the effort not to pound Bilbo into the ground. 

“I love you,” Bilbo sighs merrily, as soon as Dwalin lets his mouth go, even though their faces stay close so Dwalin can nip at Bilbo’s smooth jaw and little nose. Bilbo’s pumping them with increasing speed, and Dwalin throws a leg over Bilbo’s hip to make it easier to grind into him. The two of them roll together, grinding in close while Bilbo teases them towards the brink, his little thumb pushing through Dwalin’s foreskin to rub his slit. 

Between kisses and nips, Dwalin growls, “And I love you, little one.” He can only hope he doesn’t sound as feral as he feels; he doesn’t deserve someone so scrumptious and sweet as Bilbo Baggins: the utterly perfect package. Bilbo’s charm and intelligence never fail, bringing silver linings to all of Dwalin’s clouds. He never thought he’d find anyone who could force him to smile so much. 

Bilbo does it in spades. He nibbles at Dwalin’s bottom lip and breathes huskily, “I love your cock, Dwalin. It’s perfect; it fits so right in my hand, like it was made to be there. It’ll fit so nicely _inside_ me, too. I bet I could even fit it in my mouth, and I’d love to suckle on you, and drink from you when our stores run low...” Bilbo stops to moan loudly, twisting to bury his face in Dwalin’s broad shoulder, his honey hair so soft against Dwalin’s chin. “Oh, _oh, yes_ —oh, Dwalin, you make me so happy—”

And then he gasps, mewls, twists and cries out in the muffled, high-pitched way of his, so very _beautiful_ that Dwalin’s going to melt. He can feel Bilbo’s cock spurting against his, and the sticky seed trickles around them both, adding more lube as Bilbo keeps pumping. With Bilbo trembling so deliciously in his grasp, squirming against him and making filthy, over-sexed whimpers, it doesn’t take long for Dwalin to follow. He turns his face into the wadded up cloak he uses for a pillow, gritting his teeth so his scream doesn’t wake all their friends. He spills copiously into Bilbo’s hand, and Bilbo still goes on, milking out ever last drop. Only when Dwalin has nothing left to give does Bilbo stop stroking them, instead wiping them off with different fingers. 

He lifts his hand out of the sleeping bag after, and Dwalin murkily stares at him, panting from the thrill of the orgasm. 

Bilbo licks off his little fingers, tasting their mingled seed. He sucks each digit into his mouth and suckles everything away, then laps over his palm, drinking all the evidence. Dwalin has to force himself to look away so he doesn’t get hard again; he’s doesn’t want to tire out the poor, amazing fellow. 

When Bilbo’s finished, he sighs pleasantly, before gasping and mumbling forlornly, “Oh, dear, I quite forgot—I’m sorry, I got so caught up in feeling it, I just... well,” he breaks off, profusely blushing again, “You will have to fill me up another night, yes?” Then he smiles, radiant and breathtaking. 

Dwalin mutters, “I’ll come to you next time,” and pecks Bilbo’s nose. 

Bilbo snuggles up to him. Their legs are still mildly intertwined, though Bilbo lovingly tucks Dwalin’s spent cock back into his trousers. Bilbo’s still bottomless, which is quite alright with Dwalin. At least it’s warm inside their sleeping back, warmer with the high of their quick romp, and as Bilbo yawns, he murmurs, “This is simply lovely. The oil will last twice as long as I expected.” Dwalin snorts, not exactly sure how to take that. 

All he can say is, “You’re a curious fellow, Bilbo Baggins, although I’m quite glad for it.” Bilbo grins again, so very broadly and sincerely. 

Dwalin throws an arm over him, pulling him up close to sleep. They settle in contentedly, Dwalin already more comfortable with Bilbo than anyone else he’s ever wanted. 

Then Nori yells across the camp, “Bilbo, wherever you got to, can I borrow this oil?” And Bilbo groans in embarrassment, Dwalin half exasperated and half proud.


End file.
